13th July 2021 – Bad Habits

Disclaimer: This post mentions topics involving consensual sexual and psychological violence. Not suitable for individuals under eighteen years of age. Reader discretion is advised.

Contains some strong language.

If you haven’t listened to it yet, I highly advise you check out Ed Sheeran’s new song, Bad Habits – I am hooked!

I know this song pretty much relates to clubbing, drinking and bad decisions, but don’t we all have some bad habits? I know I do.


It’s safe to say that things are on the back up. Matt, even if he hasn’t read anything about anger management yet, is doing better to control his temper. Instead of calling a gaming opponent every name under the sun, he calls them a “silly little person” instead. It makes me smile. It’s cute, in a way. I know he’s trying.

I finally heard from my mother for the first time in more than a week. She owns a caravan just off of coastal Aberystwyth and she keeps inviting us over. I’d love to go, but I also know how well I don’t travel. Still, it can be hard to write about kink and filthy things after a catch-up call with a beloved parent.

Once I’d finished my second post for yesterday, I didn’t quite know how Matt would react. I didn’t know how anyone would react, to be honest, would my readers want more? Would they want less? It was a gamble, I just don’t know yet if it will pay off.

“Did you get my email?” I teased.

“No, where?” Matt asked, checking throigh his mobile phone.

“Ahh, well. You’ll have to find it then”.

“Kitten!”

A few moments later, he still haven’t found it.

“Call yourself my number one fan? Tsk tsk” I said, shaking my head in mocking disapproval.

But a few moments later, the announcement came that I had been half expecting, and half fearing.

“I read your post, by the way” Matt said as he stepped through the bedroom safety gate.

Oh, brother.

“You have some very interesting fantasies in that dark, decrepit little imagination of yours” he murmured, his lips mere centimetres from my own.

Hmm, decrepit. That was surely one word for it.

“But do you like them?” I asked, unsure.

“Yes, I do” he replied, leaning down to kiss me. Phew!

One of the other things I love about Matt, that I realised at that point, was his clever use of the English language. Not pretentious and egotistical, but knowledgeable enough to know what word to use, and where. Matt studied English literature and history whereas I studied sociology as well as art and design, and so he can be a little more poetic than me. Matt’s choice words often speak to a romantic side buried deep inside of me. I drank his words in and tasted them on my lips.

Dark and decrepit. Yes, that’s me.

“Still, even if that is the case, there’ll be no putting me on my back at the moment. I will fall asleep” I warned.

“Haha, really? Maybe I’ll let you, or maybe I won’t” Matt teased. Unfair!

“You will, you’re nice” I replied.

“Am I really? Who are you trying to convince, me or yourself?”

Ahh, the art of the mindfuck, it’s a beautiful thing under the right circumstances.

To my own credit, I actually managed to get quite a bit done yesterday. After blogging, I tired the dog out and drafted up Wednesday’s post. I don’t say as I got quite as far as I would have liked, but I definitely made a dent in what needed to be done. Removing the safety gate from the kitchen felt like another success too, it made getting back and forth much less of an obstacle course. Matt was reluctant, but I reminded him that it was that or he could pay for a robo-vac. No more was said. on the matter.

“What did you do to these turkey burgers?” Matt asked, “did you coat them or something?”

“Stuff” I replied with a shrug.

“No, what have you done?”

“Why, do you like them?” I asked.

“Yes, now what did you do?” Matt replied, studying my creation. It was a gamble, but it’d paid off well. Not quite how I’d planned mind you, but good enough. Because of the warmer weather yesterday, it was inspired by the Mediterranean, the warm reds and the tomatoes of the Mediterranean diet, with some of the flavours and textures as well. It could have done with being smokier rather than spicy, but still not at all bad for a first try. Perhaps some chorizo or njuda would have been a better instead of the cayenne pepper, all notes for next time.

“Bit of this, bit of that” I said dismissively, it was my father in me – My burgers, my recipe. Period.

After dinner, we settled down again for some more TV.

“This is nice” I noted, “we don’t do this nearly often enough.” Usually, I’m working late into the evening and then we go to bed. Lately, I’ve been getting up earlier, getting things done quicker and then been able to clock off and relax with Matt. With the lights dimmed, it was nice just to be able to not stress about getting things finished.

We settled down for an episode of 999: What’s Your Emergency?” , a bit of somewhat light-hearted TV. We used to enjoy 24 Hours In A & E as well, but I’ve askde for that one to be banned from our home now because I find it too emotional too often. 999: What’s Your Emergency? simply shows NHS paramedics on frontline duty, you get to know the crews and get a brief update on a patient’s recovery (or unfortunately, sometimes death), On the other hands, 24 Hours In A & E gives you an emotional one-on-one with medical staff as well as the patient’s relatives and every time, they talk as though the patient didn’t recover, only for the camera to pan and the individual that you thought was knocking on death’s door to appear, sat in a chair and sipping a cup of tea. It’s a nice twist of events, but it gets tiring fast and as someone who had to say goodbye to her father in the ICU, for me it brings it all back and prolongs my healing by tearing open old wounds. Of course I can empathise with the people I meet, but I don’t need to be force-fed my grief every night before I go to bed.

“You guys deal with the police, don’t you?” I asked Matt. I was sure his company had a contract with them, and they do, I just can’t say who.

We played a guessing game with different constabularies, their names and abbreviations. Upping the ante, I decided to test out Matt’s Welsh.

“Alright then,” I challenged, “Ten-point question: What six-letter word is written on the side of police cars in Wales?”

Heddlu. Heddlu was the answer that I was looking for, but it’s not the one I got. “Heddlu” (pronounced “heth-lu”, in case you’re wondering!) quite simply means ‘police’, in Welsh.

“Police” came the reply. “It is six letters, and it is printed on the side of ploice cars in Wales. Thank you! That one was easy.”

I’ll have to watch this one. He a sly Mofo.

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